


Mistigris

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eowyn, 8 years old, watches the clouds with her brother and Grima son of Galmod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistigris

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

"I think it looks like a horse," said Éomer, chewing thoughtfully on straw.

Éowyn pursed her lips and removed the straw from her brother's mouth. "All you ever think about is horses! You'll turn into a horse one of these days."

"Wouldn't be too bad," Éomer mused. He was feeling pleasantly lethargic after lunch, and the sun was warm on his face. They couldn't feel the wind at all, lying as they were in the long grass at the foot of the hill of Edoras, and for now it felt like the winter was tarrying for a while longer. It would be a wonderful day for a gallop.

Éowyn flopped back down on her back next to her brother, and looked up at the cloud accused of equine characteristics. She focused all her eight-year-old precocity on the task, but could not find a single horse in the rolling white shapes. "I see a bird, with big wings, maybe a crow," she said confidently. "And a sword, and a snake - see that twirling cloud there? The snake is floating above the crow."

Éomer scratched his head. "I just see a horse."

Éowyn sighed, and twisted her neck to look at the thin figure sitting with his back against a rock not far from where they lay, on the side of what little shadow remained under the early afternoon sun. "Gríma, what do you think?"

The boy, smaller by a third than her brother, though his elder at fourteen, looked up at her urging. His neck was white and thin, but the line of his chin had a lovely proud shape that drew her gaze, now accustomed to identifying shapes, to seek different flitting images in the turn of its line and the splashes of shadow on his neck. _A different light,_ she thought, _and you could see a hand there - or the hilt of a sword._ She was quite unaware that her thoughts turned to swords as often as her brother's turned to horses.

"I see a tower," said Gríma at last, slowly. "And I see a garden. The garden has been left untended and wildflowers have crept over it, wilting now, before the cold wind blowing from the east. An avalanche hangs above the garden--" He lifted his hand, pointing it at the sky, though from their angle and the vastness of the sky, neither royal sibling could tell what he was inclining. "The snow will crush the garden, but the top of the tower will stay above it."

"And on the top of the tower, there's a maiden," Éowyn decided, delighted. "And a hero will come rescue her, flying on a noble, gigantic raven, and they will fly together through the sky."

Éomer laughed. "You're both silly. It's a horse. And don't heroes usually fly on eagles?"

"Well I like Gríma's version better," said Éowyn haughtily, and sat up, becoming aware at last that the back of her fine lavender bodice must be littered with scraps of dirt and grass. "And I like ravens better than eagles."

In a short while, it would be time for her lessons. The dusty library did not entice her, nor the promise of her stony-faced instructor's company; not when the sun was out and the warm days still lingered. She closed her eyes and smelled the grass and the air. She could feel Éomer's side against her thigh, and although Gríma was not touching her she could feel his gaze on the back of her head, lost somewhere among her braided curls. She smiled, and the tension began to slip away from her. For now, they were well-hidden; just the three of them, like cards in a pack before someone turned them over.

She sunk back on the ground, and watched the avalanche teeter over the garden, and the raven, preparing to take flight.


End file.
